


All the things he said (all the things he said)

by emotionalsupportfastcars



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Formula One, Behind the Scenes, Charles and Lando are engineers who live together, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Helmut Marko's Musical Red Bull Seats, Lots of details about the realities of working in Formula 1, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Snark, There will be shenanigans, group chats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28791564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emotionalsupportfastcars/pseuds/emotionalsupportfastcars
Summary: Pierre Gasly is in his first full season driving for Toro Rosso in Formula 1. He dreams of winning a World Driver’s Championship, a feat that only one French driver - Alain Prost - has ever achieved.Charles Leclerc is in his first full season working for Toro Rosso in Formula 1. He dreams of becoming a race engineer and coaching a Formula 1 driver to a World Driver’s Championship win - a feat that no Monégasque has ever achieved.In March 2018, Charles joins Toro Rosso’s strategy team.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc & Lando Norris, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, Pierre Gasly & Brendon Hartley, Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Comments: 20
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In 2017, I kept seeing this young-looking guy in Ferrari gear at the barriers celebrating yet another Sebastian Vettel win or podium. I thought he was a genius Ferrari engineer because he looked so young compared to the other Ferrari staff members he was standing with. 
> 
> Turns out his name is Charles Leclerc and he is a genius but not an engineer. But then I thought... what if Charles _is_ a genius engineer?
> 
> This story exists because of that harebrained train of thought about Charles, my need for Pierre to win a World Driver's Championship, and a plot that wouldn't leave my mind.

“Have you heard?” asks Brendon, gingerly putting his tray down on the table before parking himself atop the chair across from Pierre. It's lunchtime and as usual, Brendon and Pierre are eating together. “The graduate placement guys are joining the strategy team.”

Pierre frowns at Brendon. “Graduate placement guys?” 

“Mm." Brendon hums.

Pierre watches Brendon eye his extremely full plate before Brendon decides to start with the grilled salmon. When Pierre doesn’t answer, Brendon looks up and finally notices the confusion on Pierre’s face. 

“Graduate because they joined right after graduating from university last year,” clarifies Brendon. “Placement because they’re placed in different engineering sub-teams to learn all the different things that go on in our overall engineering team.”

“Oh.” Pierre considers himself fluent in English. Well, he's fluent enough for his job, at least. However, it seems that some English phrases are still beyond him. “How did you find out?”

Brendon and Pierre are similar in that their Formula 1 careers started... unconventionally. 

In September 2017, Pierre was fighting for the Super Formula title in Japan when Helmut Marko called to offer him the chance of a lifetime. 

In a matter of hours, Pierre and his hastily-packed luggage were on a plane from Japan to Malaysia.

Upon disembarking, Pierre was immediately hit with a level of heat and humidity that he’d not experienced since he’d last raced in Malaysia during his GP2-winning year.

Although Pierre had driven F1 cars before on test days, he’d never done so in this sort of weather. He remembered feeling thankful that his GP2 experience meant that he at least had _some_ idea of what it was like to race at a circuit where non-rainy trackside temperatures were at least 35 degrees Celsius and where cockpit temperatures were well above 40 degrees Celsius.

Whenever anyone failed to understand just how _challenging_ it was to race in that sort of heat, Pierre would calmly remind them that the average temperature of the human body is 37 degrees Celsius.

At least Pierre was somewhat used to the humidity, having grown up in both Rouen and Le Mans. Still, 27 degrees Celsius was about the hottest that those places ever got.

Pierre remembered suiting up and praying he wouldn't die of heatstroke before he completed his first Grand Prix.

Well, Pierre survived. He got out of Q1 and although he only managed to qualify P15 during Q2, he powered through the heat and humidity and finished the race in P14, which wasn't dead last. The team praised him and said he'd done well.

A few days later, Dr Marko called to congratulate Pierre on a job well done and to inform him that he would be going on to Suzuka to race the Japanese Grand Prix.

In October 2017, Brendon was racing endurance cars in Europe when Helmut Marko called to offer _him_ the chance of a lifetime. 

It was Brendon’s turn to hop on a hastily-booked flight to replace Pierre for the U.S. Grand Prix because... Pierre had a Super Formula title to win.

And then, Helmut Marko’s Musical Red Bull Seats continued with Red Bull dropping Daniil from the academy altogether and Carlos deciding to leave the academy and move to Renault.

Pierre still doesn’t know what exactly went down in either situation.

Somehow, Toro Rosso finished the last three races of the 2017 season with Brendon and Pierre as teammates and promptly signed them up as full-time drivers for the 2018 season.

Thanks to all that uncertainty, Pierre’s still getting used to being a full-time F1 driver and not some last-minute replacement due to Helmut Marko’s Musical Red Bull Seats.

The past few months have been absolutely hectic and while Pierre has never been happier and has never felt more grateful, he also feels as though he’s constantly been blasted with a firehose of information.

On the bright side, he and Brendon have definitely bonded over the weirdness and excitement and intensity of it all.

“Overheard some engineers talking about it just before I got into the sim this morning,” replies Brendon. “Confirmed it with them during the debrief.”

“Ah.” Things are starting to make a little more sense. 

Racing has been Pierre’s life for almost as long as he can remember. Until he joined FFSA Academy, it was a struggle to keep up with both racing and schoolwork because his schoolteachers found it hard to understand why Pierre had no choice but to miss some Friday and Monday classes. To be fair to his teachers, it wasn't as though they knew many kids who spent their weekends karting around circuits throughout France.

The Academy aimed to train young drivers while helping them complete their studies. Thus, the Academy’s staff worked around the drivers' racing schedules, which helped the drivers to keep up with their studies while pursuing a racing career. It is admittedly an insular environment, with other drivers Pierre's only social circle. Yet, he wouldn’t trade those years at Le Mans for the world. 

Times like these remind Pierre that as much of a bubble as the motorsport world is, he lives in an even smaller sub-bubble by virtue of being a racing driver.

They eat in companionable silence for a while before something occurs to Pierre.

“You said they’ve been here since last year. Have you met them before?”

Brendon shrugs. “Who knows. It’s all a blur, honestly. Learning the car and the circuits take up most of my energy. I still mix up some people’s names and faces.”

“Tell me about it,” sighs Pierre.

Pierre knows exactly how Brendon feels because it's not just learning the circuits. Driving in the simulator while mentally observing the car and its reactions to give feedback to the engineers drains him both mentally and physically.

On simulator days, Pierre usually leaves the factory desperate for a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep. To make matters worse, since the drivers aren’t at the factory every day, marketing and sponsorship stuff also gets crammed into their already tight schedules.

Most days, Pierre feels like he could do with an extra two to three hours. And yet, there’s no other job he’d rather have.

“Wonder what they’ll be doing,” muses Brendon.

Pierre considers. “Not sure, but strategy’s a small team. They’ve _got_ to be responsible for something other than making espressos.”

Brendon laughs. “True. Well, they’ll be rookies like us. Should be fun.”

Pierre grins. “Yeah.” 

They’ve finished lunch, but no one from marketing has come to whisk them away to sign autographs or to film something. It means that Pierre and Brendon get to drink their water in peace and people-watch for a bit.

A lucky day.

Pierre’s watching a group of engineers laugh at what looks like memes on someone’s tablet when he feels Brendon nudging his leg.

“So,” Brendon begins, once Pierre’s attention is on him. “I got a really good time on the simulator earlier. You’re gonna have a hard time beating _that_.”

“No way. What did you get?” Pierre feels his heartbeat speed up, even though they’re just sitting there. 

They’re racing drivers, after all. Competition’s in their blood.

Brendon starts talking about the Melbourne circuit and how the engineers were experimenting with a little more downforce at the expense of some drag. 

Caught up in the mental calculus of how those changes might affect the way he takes corners and already resolving to beat Brendon’s time, Pierre forgets all about their earlier conversation.

  


* * *

  


The next day, it’s Pierre’s turn in the simulator. Today’s goal is to get a good baseline setup for qualifying in Melbourne. Just as Brendon did yesterday.

Pierre finishes his cooldown lap and pulls into the garage, marveling once again at how realistic the simulator is.

Having driven entire Grand Prix weekends in an actual car, Pierre can tell the difference and can see how some things still can’t be simulated. For example, while the simulator can simulate G-forces, it only does so up to about two Gs. In reality, it is five to six Gs of force that slam into Pierre whenever he hits the brakes on a particularly sharp corner in an actual Formula 1 car.

However, things such as the circuit layout itself and the physical effort to change gears are really close to the actual experience.

Thus, for something that’s essentially a virtual recreation of reality, the simulator is an extremely impressive piece of hardware that's powered by even more impressive software.

Pierre can even feel the difference in grip as his simulated tyres start to degrade over a hot lap.

“Let’s try again with a bit more front wing,” says Mattia, his race engineer. Pierre nods and then realises that Mattia probably can’t see his small movements, since Pierre’s in the cockpit and all dressed and mic-ed up as though he’s in an actual F1 car at the circuit.

“Ok,” says Pierre, over the radio.

“Copy.”

Silence.

“We’ve made the adjustments. Fresh tyres on. Ready, Pierre?”

“Yeah.” He was born ready.

The blankets come off his tyres.

“Go.”

Pierre shoots out of the garage and prepares to do the qualifying sim lap of his life.

It’s only when he’s finally out of the simulator and Mattia and the other engineers are congratulating him on a job well done that Pierre remembers yesterday’s conversation with Brendon. There’s no time to ask anyone, though, because the post-simulator discussion starts right away and ends up running a little overtime due to some back-and-forth debate over front wing angles.

Pierre supposes he’ll have to wait until the new guys are officially announced, or until Brendon gets more info.

  


* * *

  


Franz is normally always on the go - seamlessly moving from one meeting to another and walking down corridors deep in discussion with someone. However, today, he wanders around the office with a glass of water in his hand and engages his employees in casual chitchats. 

When Franz catches Pierre's eye and heads towards him with a smile, Pierre decides to try his luck.

“Brendon told me the graduate placement engineers are joining the strategy team?” he queries.

Franz nods and his smile becomes broader. “Ah, you’ve heard the news. Yes. It’s a bit of a last-minute change, but James needs to start spending more time at home on the weekends and Francesco wants to write more code. The new guys have been interested in strategy since they started here, anyway, so we might as well train them up while James and Francesco transition out. You should meet them next week.”

“What’re they like?” Pierre is curious.

Franz laughs. “Intelligent. Determined. Ambitious.” 

He studies Pierre for a moment.

“You’ll like them,” he says, clapping Pierre on the back. “They’re about your age.”

“Oh?” Pierre’s fairly sure that there are some staff in their late 20s, but he doesn’t remember anyone close to his age. Certainly not the three he works with the most often - his performance coach, his race engineer, and his performance engineer. “How old are they?” 

Franz knits his brows together, thinking. “They finished their masters last year so they should be about 25. You’re 22, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“It’ll be nice for you to have someone around your age.”

“I’m used to being the youngest by many years,” admits Pierre.

Pierre’s got four stepbrothers, but he’s nine years younger than the youngest of his stepbrothers and well, his oldest stepbrother was an adult by the time Pierre was old enough to remember anything. Perhaps it’s why Pierre never found it strange to race karts and single-seaters while working with mechanics much older than him. He’s been working with adults his whole life.

An engineer walks up to them. “Franz? Do you have a moment to talk about some simulations?”

Franz and Pierre turn towards her. 

“Of course, Gabriella,” says Franz, warmly. He turns back to Pierre and nods goodbye. “By the way, good job in the sim today. Mattia told me.”

“Thank you,” says Pierre, lifting a hand in farewell. “See you next week.”

  


* * *

  


Franz’s compliment stays with Pierre for the rest of the week, even when he’s back in Bologna working out with Pyry and wandering the streets near his apartment in order to take a mental break from the hectic life that’s part of being an F1 driver.

Today, Pierre’s on a run. The route is familiar - he’s run it multiple times. Pierre puts his earphones in, cues up his running playlist, and begins running.

As he runs, keeping his cadence even and regular as per Pyry’s instructions, Franz’s earlier comment about the new strategy guys being about Pierre’s age floats back into his mind.

What would his life have been had he not gone to FFSA and fought his way to get to where he is today?

What hobbies would he have? What would he have studied in university? Pierre liked sociology in school, but would he like to work in sociology? What jobs are there for people who studied sociology? Would he have studied engineering? Even Pierre’s karting days required him to learn a lot about the mechanical and electronic aspects of karts.

Would he still have ended up in a racing environment, except as someone manufacturing or designing the car in the factory? Would he have been on the pit wall making strategic calls, or back in the factory analysing data to help the trackside strategists?

Would he be a race engineer, consolidating the info from the factory, the pit wall, and numerous screens and synthesising it into something comprehensible to discuss with his driver? Perhaps, instead of the one driving the car on track, with a voice he trusts with his life regularly speaking into his ear, he would be that trusted voice, speaking into his driver's ear.

Pierre’s never given much thought the subject - his desire to race in F1 having consumed his life ever since the first time he drove a kart.

Perhaps, when he meets the new guys, he can ask them.

  


* * *

  


One week later, Pierre tumbles into the meeting room, less than a minute before the meeting’s due to start.

Stupid alarm.

Okay. More like Pierre’s just a stubborn bastard who thinks he can get ready in 15 minutes when really, he needs 25 if he’s to successfully style his hair just the way he likes it. Thank goodness traffic was light today.

The strategy lead, Marco, looks up at Pierre’s hurried entrance.

“I'm really sorry,” apologizes Pierre.

Marco waves it off.

Pierre sinks into his usual chair next to Brendon, heart still racing.

He really needs to wake up earlier.

“Alright. Today, we’re going to go over potential strategies for Melbourne,” announces Marco. “But first - Brendon and Pierre, we’d like you to meet our new team members. They joined the team yesterday.” 

“Charles Leclerc and Lando Norris,” continues Marco, gesturing to each man in turn. “Meet our drivers - Pierre Gasly and Brendon Hartley.”

Pierre’s first thought is ‘Huh - they’re really about my age, aren’t they?’

The guys are sitting down. However, from what Pierre can observe, Charles seems to be about Pierre’s height. Charles has dark hair and sharp angles. He smiles confidently and nods at Pierre and Brendon while staring straight at them, eyes alert and ready.

Lando is clearly a little shorter than Pierre. Unlike Charles, Lando's got a riot of dark curls and a softer, more youthful face. He too smiles and nods at Pierre and Brendon, but his smile is a little more shy and he makes slightly less eye contact with them.

“They graduated from Cambridge last year with their masters in mechanical engineering and joined us last autumn. They’ve gotten rave reviews from the aerodynamics and the manufacturing teams, and we’ve managed to snatch them up for strategy. Lucky us.” Marco grins in satisfaction. “They’ll be at the factory on race weekends, helping to analyse our competitors’ data so we can adjust our trackside strategy accordingly.”

Pierre smiles and lifts his hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you,” he says, politely.

Brendon does the same.

Lando and Charles respond in turn, thus completing the polite interpersonal dance.

“Great,” says Marco. “Now that we’re all introduced, let’s get started.”

A presentation blinks to life on the wall opposite and Marco stands up, laser pointer at the ready.

“Alright, here we go. Since there’s always the possibility of rain at Melbourne, we’ll be putting significant time into preparing strategies for wet and mixed races. If it starts raining, we’ll need to decide when to switch to intermediates. Preliminary data shows that...”

Pierre’s brain switches to racing mode and stays there until he leaves the room.

  


* * *

  


Even though Pierre’s got an entire factory behind him 24/7 and a race engineer in his ears giving him all the help possible throughout a race, it’s surprisingly lonely to be a racing driver. At the end of the day, it’s what you do in the car that matters, and no one else can drive the car for you.

Since Brendon and Pierre the only two drivers, they try to leave work together on factory days. It gives them some time to chat in relative privacy about their day.

Today, Pierre’s out first. He leans against the wall, browses Instagram, and waits for Brendon. 

He hears approaching footsteps and looks up. Brendon’s walking towards him, backpack swinging from one hand.

“So,” says Pierre, once Brendon’s within talking distance. “You were in the sim earlier, right? What did you do today?”

“Before we talk about that...” says Brendon. He carefully sidles closer to Pierre, a conspiratorial grin forming on his face. “Let’s talk about this morning.”

“This morning?”

“The new guys,” whispers Brendon.

Ah.

“What about them?” Pierre lowers his voice as well.

“Well... Marco said they graduated with their masters last year,” murmurs Brendon. “Getting a masters takes longer than just a getting a bachelor’s degree. Franz said they’re about your age, right? But one of them looks about eighteen. D’you think he’s a teenage genius or something?”

Pierre quickly looks around, but they’re alone in the corridor. 

“Shh,” he whispers back, trying not to giggle. He thinks back to both men and recalls a youthful face, plump cheeks, and dark curls. Brendon’s got a point. That guy’s gotta be twenty, at most.

“Franz said they’re about twenty-five, which is three years older than me but uh... do people go to university super early? Do they take fewer years to finish their courses?” 

“Probably started uni early,” decides Brendon. “My brother Nelson had a mate who did.”

Pierre digests this new bit of information. “Maybe he’s the engineering Max Verstappen?”

Max, of course, is infamous for earning a super license at 17, which allowed him to race in Formula 1, before he got his road license at 18, which allowed him to drive regular cars on regular roads.

“Your _mind_ ,” is all Brendon says before he dissolves into giggles. His mirth sets Pierre off and they end up leaning against the wall, their giggles echoing down the empty corridor.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for your kudos and encouraging comments - it really gave me the motivation to continue <3

Several days later, Pierre’s lying in bed with his phone when he sees that Brendon’s sent him something.

> Brendon: Last minute change, gotta film some promo stuff offsite tmr  
>  Brendon: Don’t miss me too much  
>  Pierre: Won’t miss you.  
>  Pierre: Lol jk  
>  Pierre: 😂  
>  Pierre: What promo stuff?  
>  Brendon: No idea  
>  Brendon: The email just said I gotta wear the team shirt and cap  
>  Brendon: Gonna be a walking billboard  
> 

Pierre has been a walking Red Bull billboard since 2014, the year he signed with Red Bull’s academy. He doesn’t mind.

Since no one gets paid to race until they reach F1 or a similar top-level series, the main threat to most young drivers’ careers is not their race results but their lack of money.

Some seasons, Pierre raced with the desperation of knowing that if he didn't win enough prize money, he couldn't race the next season.

Pierre remembers his mother sending out emails when he was a kid, hoping to find sponsorships so that Pierre could continue karting. His father and brothers also helped out.

Because of all those years of stress and pressure, Pierre will happily be a Red Bull billboard for the rest of his life if it means that he gets to race.

> Pierre: The things we do for money  
> 

He flips to his calendar app to see what he’s scheduled for tomorrow.

> Pierre: Have you done the second round of long stints yet?  
>  Brendon: Nope  
>  Pierre: Looks like I’m scheduled to do that tmr  
>  Pierre: Bet I can make the tyres last longer  
>  Brendon: Dream on  
> 

Pierre smirks. Dream on? _Please_.

Pierre makes his dreams a reality.

  


* * *

  


“Long stint today,” says Mattia, as Pierre walks into the sim room with his helmet under his arm. 

Since Formula 1 drivers don’t have the time to drive the simulator every day, reserve and test drivers help out by driving the same track in the simulator with different car setups to generate even more data for the engineers. The driver will also give detailed feedback about how the virtual car felt.

Then, the engineers would analyse both the driver’s feedback and the simulator data before tweaking the simulator settings and sending the driver out to do yet another stint.

Mattia, Pierre’s race engineer, would summarise all those findings. Then, he’ll update Pierre whenever Pierre’s next in the factory for simulator work.

Pierre wanders over to Mattia, who’s sitting in front of a bank of screens. Mattia begins briefing him on the latest updates and discussing the team’s proposed changes, pointing to specific charts on the screens whenever he needs to better illustrate his point.

Pierre listens to Mattia, studies the screens and, after some thought, gives his opinions. About ten minutes later, they’ve agreed on the day’s program.

Pierre unties his race suit from around his waist, and pulls it up over his skintight underlayer.

“Remember, we’re starting on the softs.” reminds Mattia. “They won’t be fresh - they’ve got the tyre wear that we’d expect after you’ve qualified to Q3 on them.”

Pierre grins and zips up his race suit. Q3 is the third and final round of qualifying. The top ten shootout for pole position. 

Anyone who reaches Q3 must start the race on the tyres that they used to set their Q3 qualifying time. 

The engineers think that the car has the speed to qualify in the top ten at Melbourne, then.

Pierre _loves_ it.

“We’ll start from the grid as though it’s an actual race. We’ll call you in once the tyres degrade and switch to fresh mediums. Let’s try to get the end on them without losing too much lap time.”

Pierre nods. “Got it.” 

He secures his helmet and walks over to the left side of the simulator.

He climbs in, lowering himself down and stretching out his legs. And just like that, he’s in the simulator, but he’s just above the ground.

People tend to think that driving a race car is like driving a regular car where the driver sits up straight, just as they would in a chair. However, in pursuit of aerodynamic efficiency, race cars evolved to have very little height and most of the car sits as close as possible to the ground. Because of this, the car is actually too short for any driver to actually sit up straight.

When a driver gets into a race car, it is less ‘sitting down in the car’ and more ‘sliding down into the car.’ To accommodate the driver’s entire body in a car that hovers just inches above the ground, the seat is tilted so far back - about 30 degrees - that once a driver is fully in the cockpit, their feet and their chest end up at about the same height. 

If the car were transparent, it would look as though the driver’s almost reclining in their seat in a sort of V-shaped position. 

The position looks strange, and getting used to it does take some time. However, after years of racing, Pierre finds that this position feels like home. It’s gotten to the point that to him, it is the upright position for driving a road car that feels unnatural.

He does up his seat belts and waits for Sofia, one of the simulation engineers, to help him tighten them the rest of the way.

Sofia tightens the seat belts until they’re completely snug and Pierre’s basically one with the car.

Road car seat belts have some give. However, in racing cars, seat belts must have zero give. Otherwise, whenever a driver accelerates or decelerates, G-forces would fling them around, slamming them against their cockpit walls. And the driver would be injured. Badly.

“Check?”

Pierre strains against the seat belts. There’s absolutely no give.

“Ok,” he confirms.

Sofia nods at him. “Good luck.” She walks off.

Pierre’s radio crackles to life and Mattia’s voice sounds in his ears. “Radio check.”

“Radio check okay.”

Pierre lowers his visor.

A moment later, the black screens blink to life and Pierre’s all alone at Albert Park’s start-finish straight.

Pierre's position in the cockpit, combined with the meter-high curved screens that rise up above him and wrap around his entire field of vision mean that even when Pierre turns his head completely to one side, he really, _really_ cannot see anything other than the virtual track and its virtual surroundings.

Coupled with the fact that the simulator is on a platform that swings and vibrates and moves in order to simulate the movements of a real F1 car, the entire thing is an amazingly immersive experience.

There is silence for about ten seconds.

Then, the first set of lights go out. Formation lap.

Pierre drives around the track, weaving from side to side to warm up his tyres. In a real race, of course, there would be nineteen other cars with him. Here, he is completely alone.

Pierre returns to his designated starting spot on the grid.

Fixes his eyes on the five red lights up above.

And then - 

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Lights out. Pierre releases the clutch paddle and revs the engine.

First gear. Second gear. Third. Fourth. Fifth... SixthSeventhEighthhhh.

  


* * *

  


More than an hour later, Pierre hauls himself out of the simulator, completely drained.

Anyone who thinks that driving a simulator is just fun and games... hasn’t driven a simulator.

If even the legendary seven-time WDC Michael Schumacher felt sick after driving the simulator for a few hours, Pierre decides that he can be forgiven for feeling tired in all the ways.

He wipes the sweat off his face and unzips his race suit, letting it hang around his waist. 

After catching his breath, he gulps down about half a litre of water and grabs a couple of energy bars, which he gobbles down during the post-simulator debrief with Mattia, Sofia, and the other engineers.

Lunch hour needs to come, and fast.

  


* * *

  


Pierre hates to admit it because he knows that Brendon will never let him live it down, but he does miss Brendon and he’s _lonely_.

Pierre normally doesn’t have much time to himself at the factory because of everything that has to be crammed in. Thanks to that, he hadn’t realised how much he’d relied on Brendon’s good-natured company at lunch until he found himself sitting alone at the cafeteria, trying to eat as slowly as possible.

It’s not that people are unfriendly - everyone’s been really kind and welcoming to him since last year. It’s just... although Pierre has been around around adults his whole life and is completely used to it, that doesn’t mean he can relate to conversations about spouses and children and houses, let alone participate in those conversations.

He’s good at giving feedback on how the car feels, of course, but he can’t participate in extremely technical discussions about airflow and torque and manufacturing and programming and whatnot. And well, marketing’s really beyond him.

Pierre finishes his lunch and looks around hopefully, but no one from marketing is making a beeline for him. 

A couple of people smile and nod at him and he smiles and nods back, but they don't walk up to him for something.

Pierre thinks of that day in 2017 - which was only last year but feels like a lifetime ago, really - where he barely got a moment to himself in the factory as he rushed from obligation to obligation and ended up signing his driver cards with one hand while shoving his lunch into his mouth with the other hand and praying that he wouldn’t spill any food on those driver cards.

Figures that the one day Brendon’s not here, no one needs to cram something into what remains of Pierre’s lunch hour.  
Oh well. Pierre can just live on Instagram, as he always does. He opens the app and starts scrolling, hoping for some long-ish video to fill his time.

Pierre’s watching PSG’s Ligue 1 highlights on mute when he hears a voice next to him.

He looks up. A vaguely familiar guy is standing next to him with an expectant look on his face.

“Ah - I’m sorry,” says Pierre. “I missed what you were saying.”

“No worries,” replies the guy. He nods at the empty seat next to Pierre. “Just wanted to know whether this seat’s free.”

Pierre gestures to it. “Yeah. All yours.”

“Thanks,” says Vaguely Familiar Guy. He sits down with his lunch tray.

“I’m Charles Leclerc, by the way,” continues Vaguely Familiar Guy, holding out his hand with a smile. “We met last week during the Melbourne strategy briefing.”

Ah. That explains why the guy looks so familiar. He’s one of the new strategy guys.

“I’m Pierre Gasly,” replies Pierre, shaking Charles’ hand. “Nice to meet you again.”

“Likewise.”

Small talk done, Charles begins digging into his food. This gives Pierre, who’s long since finished his lunch, the opportunity to study Charles without Charles noticing.

Pierre remembers his conversation with Brendon last week and his own initial impressions. 

The Charles before him looks about Pierre’s age. It’s the other guy who must be the engineering Max Verstappen, then.

“Your friend -” he starts.

Charles looks up.

“Ah - the other new guy.” Pierre winces internally. He really needs to get better at names and faces.

“Lando?”

“Yeah.” Pierre is going to look like an idiot if Charles is referring to someone other than Engineering Max Verstappen. Whatever. Fake it ’til you make it.

“What about him?”

“He’s not here today?”

Charles pauses to drink some water.

“He is,” says Charles. “His code’s breaking, and he wanted to fix it before getting lunch. I told him to take a break and eat because like most things, the answer will probably come when he’s not stressing about it. But as usual, he doesn’t listen to me.”

Charles shakes his head and releases a long-suffering sigh that reminds Pierre of his father’s reaction whenever Pierre oversleeps through yet another alarm.

The thought of Charles parenting his colleague makes Pierre want to grin, but he stops himself. He wants to say something witty, but he doesn’t know either of them well enough to make a joke, despite Charles’ friendly demeanour.

“Hope he gets it fixed soon,” he offers.

"Don't worry," grins Charles. “Lando’s smart. He’s just really stubborn. Actually, let me check on him.”

Charles unlocks his phone and starts texting with a growing smirk on his face. 

It is rude to stare and Charles still has an entire meal to eat, so Pierre scrolls backwards through PSG’s Instagram in search of older and happier highlights because he refuses to relive the pain and suffering of that Champions League exit. Stupid tournament. 

He accidentally hits the unmute button while trying to scroll past a video, and excited rapid-fire French commentary blares from his phone.

“Ah! Sorry!” he yelps, scrambling to mute his phone again.

“It’s alright,” says Charles. “Who scored?”

“Mbappé,” replies Pierre, automatically.

Phone successfully muted, Pierre’s about to carefully scroll to the next video when something occurs to him and he turns towards Charles. 

“You understand French?”

“Yeah,” replies Charles. “I’m from Monaco.”

Huh. Aren’t people in Monaco really really rich? It’s one of Europe’s tax havens, after all. 

There's no reason for Charles to be working here, then. Especially in a job that has long and strange hours and where weekends are by far the busiest days.

Still, the glitz and glamour of Formula 1 is why thousands of super-rich people turn up at circuits every year. Especially at the historic Monaco Grand Prix, which would be Charles' home race. Well, perhaps Charles just likes Formula 1 and is doing this for fun.

“Cool,” says Pierre. “I’m from France.”

“Rouen, yeah?”

Pierre’s eyes widen, and Charles blushes.

“Ah - sorry,” says Charles, awkwardly. “We... we looked you and Brendon up on the internet.”

Charles rubs the back of his head and looks down. “Sorry,” he repeats to the table. “This is really kinda awkward.”

It is, but Pierre’s been on the other side enough times. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, trying to reassure Charles. “I’ve accidentally said similar stuff to drivers I compete against on track. That’s _way_ more weird.”

“Is it?” Charles looks up, momentarily distracted.

Pierre nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I mean, I’m nobody, but imagine getting to talk to someone you’ve looked up to your whole life and trying not to let slip that you’ve probably memorised their entire Wikipedia page.”

Pierre thinks of the first time he met Sebastian Vettel and tries not to cringe.

"You're not nobody," replies Charles, swiftly. "You're a Formula 1 driver."

Pierre shrugs. He hasn’t really achieved anything in Formula 1.

Charles’ brows are furrowed in contemplation. 

"Hmm,” muses Charles, after a few extra seconds. “Now that I think about it, I can see how that would be awkward. I promise I haven’t memorised your entire Wiki page, though.”

He flashes Pierre a quick smile.

Pierre snorts. “Last I checked, it’s mostly my racing results.”

Ever since he accidentally found out that he had a Wikipedia page, Pierre checks it every now and then, mostly out of curiosity. 

From what he remembers, it’s got a short paragraph on his personal statistics like date of birth and nationality, a short summary of his racing history, and all his single-seater results. He really admires the fans who take the time to write all those things up on drivers’ Wiki pages. 

“It’s still weird that I’ve got a Wiki page,” admits Pierre. “On the main English site too. Not just in French.”

“You’ve been giving interviews for a long time though, right?” asks Charles.

Pierre nods. “Yeah. They start interviewing you during karting competitions. Once you move up to single-seaters, those races get broadcast across Europe. The final few series are definitely broadcast internationally.”

"I see.”

Charles starts eating again, so Pierre goes back to PSG.

Pierre is just sitting next to Charles and scrolling through his feed on mute. Yet, despite the silence, Pierre feels his earlier loneliness dissipate. Perhaps Franz was right when he said that it would be nice for Pierre to have more staff members around his age.

Pierre finishes scrolling through his actual feed and starts scrolling through his recommended feed.

“Actually,” says Charles, breaking into Pierre’s thoughts once again. “Do you speak French often?”

Pierre shrugs. “I still call home almost every day, even if just for five minutes, so I do get a French conversation in most days, I guess? We use English here at work, so-”

Realising he’s about to ramble on, Pierre catches himself. “What about you?” he asks Charles.

“About the same as you, though I call home less often,” replies Charles. “One of the race engineers is French, right?”

“Yeah. Pierre Hamelin. He’s Brendon’s race engineer, though. Mine’s Italian.”

Pierre pauses for a moment.

“Anyway, even if Hamelin was my engineer, we’d still have to use English because the others don’t speak French.”

Since Hamelin is on Brendon’s race team, Pierre doesn’t get to interact much with him. Still, whenever Pierre hears Hamelin’s voice during team-wide strategy briefings, he gets a strange feeling of contentment. It’s probably because Hamelin’s French-accented English reminds him of home.

Charles hums thoughtfully.

“I was thinking... we could speak in French?” volunteers Charles, switching to French. “Only if you want to, though,” he adds, hastily.

At the familiar-sounding syllables and accent, Pierre brightens up considerably. 

“Yes please,” he replies, switching to French as well. “I do want to.”

Pierre’s spent most of his life racing around Europe, where English is the lingua franca. He also spent a year racing in Japan - a country on an entirely different continent whose languages uses multiple scripts that Pierre can’t even read. So really, by now, Pierre should be used to not speaking French in his daily life.

And he is. It’s just that - sometimes, he wants to feel a sense of home.

As much of a sense of home as someone who left his home at thirteen to pursue a cutthroat career can have, at any rate.

Once again, something occurs to him.

“You speak French but your name is pronounced ‘Charles’?” he asks, using the British pronunciation that Charles used earlier when introducing himself.

Charles laughs and runs a hand through his thick dark hair, which promptly sticks out in various directions. 

“Ahh... depends. Everyone mixes everything up, and don’t get me started on my surname.” He fixes Pierre with an imploring look and releases another long-suffering sigh.

“There are two main ways and I’m used to both at this point, really. So here, I introduce myself as ‘Charles’ -” and here Charles says it in the British way.

“...But the Monégasque way to say it is ‘Sharl,’” he finishes. 

It’s the same as the French way, then. No surprises there, since Monaco’s on the French Riviera and all of Monaco’s land borders are with France.

“Sharl,” repeats Pierre, allowing his French accent to come through even more.

Charles lights up. “Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- there’s a mercedes news article that talks about michael schumacher and the merc simulator  
> \- there’s an interview of charles talking about how people pronounce his name, his thoughts on it, and the monégasque way to pronounce it  
> \- psg = paris saint germain = pierre and esteban’s favourite football team IRL.  
> \- albert park is the name of Melbourne’s F1 circuit


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Last chapter**  
>  At the last minute, Brendon gets called away to do some filming for a promotional video. Because of this, Pierre doesn't have his usual lunchtime buddy, and after a morning of simulator work, he ends up spending lunchtime alone in Toro Rosso's cafeteria. He's rescued from boredom by Charles, who sits opposite him and starts making conversation. Pierre discovers that Charles is from Monaco and also speaks French.
> 
> * * *
> 
> I've started adding a summary of 'what happened last chapter' in the chapter notes. Hopefully, this helps you, the reader, to remember what happened in between updates. If these summaries help you, please let me know. Happy to add more detail to the summaries if you want.

As a Toro Rosso driver, Pierre needs to visit their factory semi-regularly. The factory is at Faenza, a small city in Italy’s Emilia-Romagna region. 

If possible, though, Pierre would rather live in a larger city. So when he opened Google Maps and realised that the region’s capital city, Bologna, was about an hour’s drive from the factory, it seemed like a good option. 

Admittedly, the commute is a little longer than Pierre would like. However, since he doesn’t have to drive to Faenza five days a week, it’s doable. It’s a tradeoff he’s willing to make in order to enjoy Bologna’s bustling city life.

The problem is, this week, Pierre has to be at the factory for two days in a row, and both days are simulator-heavy. Since driving in the simulator is really close to driving the actual Formula 1 car, simulator work does take a physical toll. 

Thus, after many tiring hours in the simulator, Pierre really doesn’t want to have to concentrate to drive for an hour on Actual Real Roads back to Bologna, only to collapse in bed. Then, barely ten hours later, he’ll have to haul himself back out of bed at the crack of dawn to drive on more Actual Real Roads back to Faenza... only to do more driving in the simulator.

To save himself the time, energy, and frankly, stress, Pierre had splurged and booked a hotel room in downtown Faenza that’s just minutes from the factory. It’s a win-win, really. He gets more sleep, a little extra time to do his hair, and actually manages to reach work early because there’s barely any traffic.

He’s done it before, and it’s never been a problem.

Except this time.

Pierre had planned to relax in his hotel room by exploring the virtual kingdom of Hyrule in Nintendo’s hit game ‘Breath of the Wild.’ Unfortunately, in a fit of procrastination, he didn’t pack his bags until the last minute. 

As a result, he’s somehow brought along his Nintendo Switch charger but not the console itself. Even more annoyingly, he can’t fall back on his laptop because he left it at home, not expecting to need it with so little downtime at work.

Thus, after a video call home to his parents, Pierre’s left twiddling his fingers because he’s got precious little to do. He spends a lot of time on Instagram, it’s true, but even _he_ can’t live on Instagram for the rest of the night.

He flips through the hotel’s meagre selection of television channels and despairs. It really doesn’t help that the television’s reception is semi-decent at best.

After tapping around his phone for a bit, Pierre opens WhatsApp and taps through his recent messages, determined to bother someone.

The app shows that Brendon is online. _Perfect._

> Pierre: What marketing stuff did you do today?

While waiting for a reply, Pierre continues tapping through his recent messages. He spies one of his brothers’ names and begins typing a message.

By the time Pierre’s done sending that message, Brendon has replied.

> Brendon: Filmed some Red Bull ad and posed for some photos  
>  Brendon: They’re gonna haul you in next week I think

Pierre grins. Fabulous. It looks like Brendon’s free to chat, which means Pierre isn’t going to die of boredom tonight.

> Pierre: Always wanted a career in modelling  
>  Pierre: Not!

Brendon asks him how his long stint went, and Pierre goes on about tyre wear. Then, he remembers what happened at lunch.

> Pierre: Btw I met one of the new strategy guys  
>  Pierre: Charles  
>  Brendon: Engineering Max Verstappen?  
>  Pierre: No. The other one.  
>  Brendon: Ah ok  
>  Brendon: What’s Charles like?  
>  Pierre: Uh... Friendly?  
>  Pierre: He came over and sat down next to me at lunch  
>  Brendon: LOL  
>  Brendon: Were you alone  
>  Pierre: Yeah, why?  
>  Brendon: Admit it, you missed me

Pierre pouts at his phone because even though he admitted it to himself earlier today, he does _so_ not want to admit it to Brendon.

In the end, he gives in. As embarrassing as it might be to admit it, it will be even more embarrassing if Brendon worms it out of him at the factory during lunch. Because someone else might overhear them, and wouldn’t _that_ be embarrassing.

Since Brendon is definitely going to tease him, at least no one on the planet is here to bear in-person witness to Pierre’s embarrassment.

> Pierre: Fine yes I missed you  
>  Pierre: Happy?  
>  Pierre: You’ll miss me when I’m off doing marketing stuff  
>  Brendon: HAH I KNEW IT  
>  Brendon: Miss you?  
>  Brendon: Hm we shall see

Pierre pouts even harder and sends a round of crying emojis.

> Pierre: 😭😭😭

Pierre’s too proud to admit it out loud damn it, the least Brendon can do is say that he’ll miss Pierre as well.

More messages from Brendon pop up.

> Brendon: Come on  
>  Brendon: You met Charles  
>  Brendon Tell me more  
>  Pierre: He’s from Monaco. He speaks French  
>  Pierre: That’s all, I think?  
>  Brendon: That’s it???  
>  Pierre: He was eating and it felt awkward to interrogate someone who’s eating  
>  Brendon: LOL  
>  Brendon: You need to learn how to get information  
>  Brendon: We’ve got to work on your detective skills, Gasly  
>  Pierre: 😂😂😂

After a little more shit-talking, they begin chatting about other things.

Brendon talks about the restaurants he’s been visiting with Sarah. Apparently, it’s a thing they like to do.

Pierre asks questions and wheedles Brendon for food pics. Brendon obliges.

Pierre can’t help but notice that even though Brendon’s just texting about him and Sarah visiting random restaurants, the way Brendon talks about Sarah makes it clear how much he loves and adores her. It’s really sweet. 

Pierre’s met Sarah a few times. From what Brendon has said, they’re teenage sweethearts who’ve been together for years. 

Brendon’s from New Zealand. So, to have any chance of making it to Formula 1, he had to move to Europe. Sarah moved to be with him and Brendon has waxed lyrical — both in person and in interviews — about how grateful he is for everything she’s done, and how she’s his rock.

Brendon and Sarah got married earlier this year and its just March, so they’re newlyweds in their first year of marriage. 

Pierre wonders what it would be like to have that sort of relationship. He’s gone on dates and had what might count as a girlfriend or two for a couple of months as a teenager, but that’s about it.

It goes without saying that he’s definitely not had the sort of long-running committed thing that Brendon and Sarah have. 

Pierre would have to get really lucky, though. Most people don’t understand what life is like as a racing driver. 

To be fair, since Pierre has lived most of his life as a racing driver... 

If he weren’t a racing driver and had a regular nine-to-five job just like his brothers, Pierre doesn’t think he’d be able to date someone with the sort of life that he’s had for so many years.

The sort of life where you live out of your luggage, take over a hundred flights a year, and spend hundreds of nights in hotel rooms.

The sort of life where you visit dozens of countries but don’t have the time to fully appreciate any of them because you spend most of your time at the paddock. Because on the rare chance that you do get to go out to the city or town, you’re busy doing a bunch of media and promo work.

The sort of life where you barely see anyone who’s not part of the paddock in whatever series you’re racing in in any given year.

In short, Pierre’s current life is not exactly the most fertile ground to start any sort of serious romantic relationship.

Well, it’s not like he has has the time these days to find someone, let alone get to know them and date them properly.

Pierre’s got a list of life priorities, and dating doesn’t even appear on that list.

  


* * *

  


The next day, Pierre reaches the factory a whole fifteen minutes early, well-rested and looking forward to the day.

Although simulator work is brutal, it seems that both he and Brendon have been getting good results. The engineers are really optimistic and their enthusiasm is contagious. The debrief ends up running overtime again, though, so Pierre’s a little late for lunch. 

By the time he reaches their usual table, there’s already someone sitting next to Brendon.

Ah. The guy that Pierre met yesterday. Not Engineering Max Verstappen. What was that guy’s name? Right. Charles. Monaco Charles.

“Hey,” says Pierre, dropping into the seat next to Brendon.

“Hey,” replies Brendon. 

Charles waves, clearly unable to talk, what with his cheeks bulging with food.

From their body language, it’s clear that Brendon and Charles have introduced themselves to each other. Good. No need for Pierre to do the introductions.

They mostly eat in silence, with the occasional small talk about how the food tastes today.

“Gonna grab a drink,” says Brendon, and Charles and Pierre nod at him. “Be right back.”

Shortly after Brendon has left their table, Charles turns to Pierre. “What did you do earlier?” asks Charles in French.

“Simulator,” replies Pierre, also in French.

“Ah. How was it?”

Pierre begins to talk about wet weather setups.

Since English is the common language in motorsports, Pierre’s used to talking about racing in English, even thought English isn’t his first language. Thanks to that, it’s really strange to have a conversation about racing in French. Pierre finds himself tripping over words or defaulting to English, just because he honestly doesn’t remember the French words for some racing terms.

Luckily, Charles doesn’t seem to mind.

“When will you be testing intermediates?” asks Charles. 

Pierre’s answer is interrupted by a shadow falling across their table.

Ah. Engineering Max Verstappen.

Charles, who has also looked up, beams. “Mate, you got out on time!” he says, switching back to English. “Thought I’d have to fish you out of the lab again.”

Engineering Max Verstappen looks between them with an expression that can only be described as Many Confused Question Marks.

“Ah.” Charles grins at Lando. “You haven’t met Pierre properly yet, have you? Pierre, Lando. Lando, Pierre.”

“Hey,” says Pierre, awkwardly, holding out his hand. “I’m Pierre Gasly, nice to meet you.” 

Meeting new people at the factory is always the most awkward thing ever. Pierre always introduces himself by name because he doesn’t want to be arrogant and assume that they know both his name and face, even though he’s one of the two people who carry the hopes and the hard work of everyone at the factory whenever they drive the car. 

However, usually, the person he’s meeting already knows exactly who he is and what he looks like.

It’s just ten different kinds of awkward, really, and Pierre already feels awkward often enough — what with the world of Formula 1 still feeling like a fever dream.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Lando Norris,” says Engineering Max Verstappen, shaking Pierre’s hand with a bashful smile.

Just then, Brendon returns with a smile and a curious look at Lando.

Lando’s confused expression returns, so Charles cheerfully introduces Brendon and Lando, and the introductory dance repeats.

Pierre’s got a lot of questions. However, he’s also acutely aware that he’s still got half of his lunch to finish, thanks to being distracted by Charles’ earlier questions about simulator work. However, Pierre’s in luck today. Brendon makes conversation and asks the questions that Pierre wants to ask.

“Marco said both of you joined the team last year and did aerodynamics and manufacturing,” says Brendon. “What does that involve?”

“So many things,” says Charles. “Um... How do I explain to someone who’s not an engineer. Give me a moment to think.”

Pierre continues eating.

“Let me try,” says Charles, after some thought. “Stop me if you’re confused okay? So — we’re each assigned to work on a small part of the car. We’ll read the regulations and talk to other team members, especially those that work on related parts. Then, we design and test that part on the computer. Once we think it’s good enough, we’ll make a smaller version of the actual part and test it in the wind tunnel.”

Right. Pierre knows about the wind tunnel. Teams use them to test the aerodynamics of car parts in order to decide on the best design for F1 cars.

It’s expensive to operate a wind tunnel, and every team is hell-bent on extracting as much data as possible to make the fastest cars. Theoretically, this would mean that richer teams would test parts in their wind tunnels all day every day. Poorer teams wouldn’t be able to do the same. If this happened, the gap between richer and poorer teams would widen over time, and the entire grid would become less competitive.

Which would be bad for the sport as a whole.

To avoid this, the FIA, also known as the Federation Internationale de l’Automobile and Formula 1’s governing body, heavily regulate when and how wind tunnels can be used.

Charles pauses. “Makes sense so far?”

“Yup.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So the wind tunnel will give us tons of actual data. We’ll analyse that, compare it to existing data, and talk to our teammates. If we don’t think it’s good enough, we’ll go back to designing. Ideally, the data will show us that the new part is better than current part, and that the new part will work well with the other parts of the car.”

Charles pauses and looks at Brendon and Pierre again, but neither of them interrupt him.

“Then, we’ll get the new part made in its actual size. Once it passes quality control, the mechanics will install it on your cars.”

Huh. Interesting. Pierre’s got more questions, but he doubts that he’s got the brainpower to process the answers. For now, he’ll be contented with a nice, general overview like the one Charles just gave.

“How many hours do you work?” asks Brendon.

“Depends,” says Charles. “They can get long, though.” He glances at Lando. “What’s our record?”

“Don’t remember,” admits Lando. “But I think we spent twelve hours at the factory once.”

“Oh mannn, I remember that. We don’t work that many hours everyday but yeah — long hours can and do happen.” Charles laughs.

“Don’t think we saw the sun much last year, especially as the days got shorter because it was autumn going into winter,” he continues. “I think there was one day Lando and I spent an entire coffee break just walking out to the car park to stand under a patch of sunlight.”

Lando nods, a rueful smile on his face.

Huh. That’s kinda rough. Pierre likes the sun.

“What do you do in your spare time?” asks Pierre, curiously.

“Game,” says Charles, succinctly.

“Which games?” asks Brendon.

“Call of Duty, FIFA, the usual.”

Brendon breaks into a grin. “We play that too,” he says. “It’s interesting, because we compete on simulator stuff all the time and usually play against each other on FIFA. But for Call of Duty, there’s a co-op mode so we tried playing cooperatively. It’s been surprisingly fun.”

Lando, who’s been quietly observing their conversation unless Charles prompts him to contribute, visibly perks up. 

“Well then.” Charles grins at them before catching Lando’s eye. Lando looks excited. 

“If you want, we could try to find a time to play together,” offers Charles. “That co-op mode supports up to four people.”

Anything that involves competition gets Pierre going, really. Even if it’s competing against virtual zombies. “Yeah sure, why not?”

Brendon nods. “Both Pierre and I live further from the factory so we’re usually really tired by the time we get home. But we don’t come in every day, so we could probably find a time on non-factory days.”

“Sounds good,” says Charles.

Lando nods, a small smile on his face.

And that’s how Pierre finds himself exchanging phone numbers with Charles and Lando, promising to text them once he’s gotten home and had a good night’s sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **References**  
>  \- Pierre’s Insta has a pic of him sitting in a plane holding a Nintendo Switch and grinning  
> \- Breath of the Wild is a hit Nintendo Switch game that came out in 2017. Since this chapter is set in March 2018 before the Australian Grand Prix, it's reasonable to assume that Pierre would own this game.  
> \- Thanks to various articles and videos that explain the manufacturing and testing process for F1 cars. They helped me to write Charles' explanation of what his and Lando's work involves.  
> \- You can find details about wind tunnels and the FIA's restrictions on them on various news and motorsports websites.  
> \- A bunch of drivers - Lando, Charles, and Pierre included - have streamed themselves playing Call of Duty and other online games. Since this is 2018, I am referencing the CoD game released in 2017.  
> \- Working in Formula 1 is tiring. People regularly talk about 60-80 hour weeks. However, since Charles and Lando are currently in Toro Rosso's graduate program, this means that they are not permanent staff. So in my mind, while they definitely work more than the usual 40 hour workweek, it isn't the 60-80+ hours that actual F1 staff work.  
> \- Thanks to the discord for ideas and encouragement. I was blocked on this chapter for _weeks_.
> 
>  **The Player's Tribune**  
>  \- An online platform started by professional athletes.  
> \- It is well-known as a platform for athletes to write about their personal and professional experiences. Athletes have written about topics that are less talked about in more mainstream media, such as anxiety and poverty. Multiple athletes have also used this platform to make major announcements such as retirements.  
> \- Brendon wrote a series of blogposts on _The Player's Tribune_ during his one and only Formula 1 season. Among other things, he also wrote about the way Sarah, his wife, supported him.

**Author's Note:**

>  **all the things he said (all the things he said)**  
>  title from t.A.T.u.’s ‘All The Things She Said.’
> 
> I chose it because drivers and their race engineers talk all the time, they both have to remember what the other person said. But people also talk with their loved ones and tend to remember what their loved ones said. So in this fic, the phrase 'all the things he said' can and does mean both things. And if you know the song's lyrics... 
> 
> I promise this fic ends with Pierre and Charles getting their happy ending, and with Lando also having an awesome career.
> 
>  **notes**  
>  I'm so excited about this - it's the idea I've wanted to write for _months_ \- but I'm also terrified because of the amount of research required and the time span of this fic.
> 
> Thank you for reading. Feedback here or at @whatdidwejustdo on Tumblr would be really lovely because I'm hoping that someone other than me likes the idea of a semi-AU where some of them aren't drivers.


End file.
